


ruining rational choice theory one glorious step a time

by whythough



Category: DC Animated Universe, DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, british slang bashing, not a crackfic although the summary n title says otherwise. oh well
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-04 22:27:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15156956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whythough/pseuds/whythough
Summary: In which Len is trying to figure out if he's part of the free rider problem if he just goes with the flow and lets his sister mock him about the sparks between him and Mick Rory. For the last time, Lisa, electricity jokes are not that good when Mick does Chem.





	ruining rational choice theory one glorious step a time

Let’s just say that Len’s first day on campus could have gone, well, better.

 

If saying goodbye to Lisa, packing up his room and then dragging his bag across Central wasn’t enough – and with those deathtraps the major liked to call subway wagons it should have been – , he gets a nasty welcome in the dorm.

 

See, Len, he is – chill. He doesn’t like bothering people as long as they don’t bother him. But when he finally arrives at his shithole of a dorm, all he wants is to get his keys and fall into bed. The guy at the front desk is bored out of his mind, one earphone plugged in lazily. Len can’t blame him, it must be a fucking unpleasant job, signing up all the freshers and giving them their keys. Then the hallways clear out for a few seconds and the lyrics blasting from the guy’s earplug is impossible to not recognize. ‘I’m not afraid, I’m not afraid,’ sneers Eminem, and you know what? Len can, in fact, blame this guy. He takes the key and leaves for the stairs with a curt nod. Great, now he only needs to climb up to the second floor, find his room and pray that his roommate hasn’t arrived yet, so he can call Lisa in peace.

 

There are a bunch of people gathered on his floor. Some of them are sprawled out on the old, rather uncomfortable looking armchairs, some of them are sitting cross legged on the navy linoleum. Len intends to pass by without a second look, scanning the signs on the wall to see which way to go.

 

“Oi, mate!”

 

Oh, Len doesn’t want to deal with whatever British nonsense that is. He refuses to turn around, hoping that somehow, magically, it isn’t him who they’re talking to.

 

“Yeah, you. In that – is that a turtleneck? What are you, my gramps?”

 

Len doesn’t bother hiding his exasperated sigh while the others burst into laughter. Slowly, he turns around and raises his eyebrows while taking in the guy. He looks like your token British guy with his pale skin and brown hair. Len hates to admit it but the guy is fairly attractive with his lean muscles and the slight stubble. On British standards. Or he would be, if he wasn’t so damn aware of this fact and if he didn’t have such an ugly smirk playing on his lips.

 

“I’m sorry,” Len sneers with the most sarcastic tone he can muster, “I didn’t realize I would have the luck to ask for fashion advice from the British crown prince himself.”

 

The guy’s smirk disappears immediately. He looks at his snickering friends and makes a poor attempt to laugh along.

 

“Ha, ha,” he says flatly, and the laughter dies out. “A funny lad, aren’t you?”

 

“I don’t know, am I?”

 

Surely this asshole’s dentist would disapprove of the way he sets his jaw so tightly.

 

“Maybe you should come around, join our fraternity. Running that big mouth of yours will surely bring some trouble otherwise.”

 

“Right,” Len snorts in disbelief. God, he hasn’t been here for an hour and he’s already managed to piss off some fraternity rat. “Thanks, but I’m not interested.”

 

Even those who’ve been chattering quietly shut up then. Len tries very hard to act unaffected, but his skin is itching for being so blatantly stared at. The guy looks taken aback, his mouth open in a small _O._ Then he starts laughing, loud and obnoxious until a few of his mates join.

 

“Mate, I’m not gunna ask you again,” he warns Len, who only gives a shrug in response. Heaven knows the guy would do Len a favour with that. “Do you even know who we are?”

 

“Don’t know, don’t care.” Fixing the strap of his bag on his shoulder, Len turns to go to his room, but as he passes by the guy, he abruptly stands and steps into Len’s space, which, no. “You got a problem, dude?”

 

“Seems to me that you’re the one with the problem, mate,” the guy leers, giving Len an obvious once over, prompting a cocked eyebrow from Len. “You gotta be pretty dumb to turn me down without even considering my offer. Most freshmen would shite themselves if I even talked to them.”

 

“Then go talk to them, buddy, if you’re such a big fucking deal,” Len snaps as his patience wears thin.

 

One of the guys stands, then, and moves behind the first. “Show some fucking respect, kid,” he warns. Before Len could reply, there’s the sharp noise of a training shoe slipping on the cheap linoleum, and a guy appears on the stairs. He’s wearing a tank top that’s clinging to his skin, obviously coming back from the gym. When he spots Len and the two guys standing close, his content expression disappears in a millisecond.

 

“For fuck’s sake, Rip,” he groans, “why do you insist on terrorizing freshmen. Every. Single. Fucking. Year.”

 

“He is not terrorizing me,” Len snaps at the same time the guy – Rip, who the fuck is called Rip?! – protests, “I’m not terrorizing anyone,” and Len glares at him with his best ‘fucking choke, bitch’ look.

 

“Look at you, already being on the same page,” Rip’s friend sniggers, and Rip jabs him in the ribs with his elbow.

 

The other guy shakes his head at them and sighs. “Come on, I’ll help you find your room,” he nods at Len, who contemplates saying no because the rooms are numbered in a perfectly logical order and he could find it on his own, but hey, it’s a nice gesture, and he doesn’t want to antagonise the guy for nothing.

 

“It’s Room 231,” Len lifts the keys when they’re out of hearing distance, and the guy nods. “I’m Len, by the way.”

 

“Mick,” Mick takes his extended hand and shakes it. His hold is firm and slightly sweaty. “Sorry, just got back from the gym.”

 

“I guessed,” says Len, not unamused. “Thanks for intervening, although I had it under control.”

 

“No doubt.” Mick doesn’t sound like he’s making fun of Len, but there’s a teasing glint in his eyes that wasn’t there before. “It’s my job, though. I’m the warden in this wing.”

 

“So if the showers flood or there’s a mouse in my room, you’re the unlucky soul who has to deal with that?”

 

“That would be me, yes. I’ll come save you from mice any time.” Mick huffs out a small laugh. His eyes are twinkling with that mischievous spark still and it does things to Len’s stomach. “I doubt there would be any trouble apart from noise complaints, though. I sure fucking hope so.”

 

Len laughs at that quietly, earning a quick, surprised smile from Mick.

 

“So I should expect that from – is his name really _Rip_?”

 

“Yeah, man. He says his name is Rip Hunter. I’m pretty sure it’s a nickname though, Ripley or something even more obnoxious. Like, I don’t know, Horace.”

 

“Horace, God, that’s pretentious. Horatio Caine is valid though.”

 

Mick stares at him in mock horror. “Was that a CSI: Miami reference? You menace. A fucking David Caruso fan in _MY_ wing.”

 

“Hey, takes one to know one,” Len says, grinning.

 

“Pleading the fifth. Oh, that’s your room.”

 

Indeed, they’ve reached the door that’s sporting 231 in faded, grey numbers. Len nods, takes in the sight, then looks back at Mick, who’s watching him with a slight grin. It’s a nice smile, with just a hint of white, neat teeth.

 

“Well, Len, it was a pleasure meeting you,” Mick says, running a hand through his short, sweaty hair and looks like every guy in Len’s wing is unfairly hot, because the way Mick’s muscles move in his arm are worthy to stare at for a good hour, at least. Len nods, not _actually_ staring, because he has dignity regardless of what Lisa would say. “if you need anything, I’m over at room 250.”

 

“Cool, thanks.”

 

With a final smile, Mick turns, and jogs down the corridor, which is really just showing off. Len decidedly does not check if his ass is as great as Len would expect.

 

-

 

Len does see him again in the dining room, but they only nod at each other. Mick’s sitting with friends, a beautiful girl rocking an afro, and a guy, too pretty for his own good.

 

Len sits alone. He texts Lisa back, frowning at the string of emoji she sent him. It’s weird to be away from his little sister, even if they’re still in the same city. Len didn’t even want to move into the dorms, but it would’ve taken two hours to commute, and his scholarship covered the cost of the room anyways. Plus, now Lisa has the room for herself, which is what a fifteen years old girl should have, and as far as Len is concerned, Lisa will always get what she deserves.

 

He can feel a glare digging in his back and he turns his head slightly, catching a glimpse of Rip and his group of fellow assholes. Nobody has bothered him since his first day, and Len is not sure if it’s his own or Mick’s doing. Nevertheless, he appreciates it.

 

Taking another bite of his pasta, Len opens the news. He scrolls through the sports news and settles for an opinion piece about the latest immigration policies in Eastern Europe. The author clearly approves of the exclusionist stand, praising the ministers for protecting European integrity. No matter how much Len would like to close it, he skims through the whole article. Classes won’t start until next week, but he’s expected to be up to date with global news and deep down Len knows that he wants to impress his professors.

 

He takes his tray back and heads back to his room, eager to check if any syllabi have been uploaded yet.

 

-

 

By the time classes start, Len has discovered a fair amount of campus. He checked out the nearby coffee shops and asked if anyone was hiring. That’s how he finds himself wearing a navy apron two days later, trying to learn how to create the perfect leaf in lattes.

 

“Tomorrow I’ll teach you how to do hearts,” Ray clasps his shoulder. Len moves out of the grasp but offers a small grin to his colleague. “You can impress all the girls, man. Chicks love lattes.”

 

“Right,” Len snorts. “Look at you, Don Juan. That doesn’t sound like a skill I’ll need, then.” At Ray’s confused gaze, he rolls his eyes. “I’m gay, man.”

 

“Oh! That’s, that’s cool, dude. I have a friend, he’s bi and he has been dating a guy for a while now,” Ray says quickly. Len fights the urge to roll his eyes again, because Ray is clearly trying to be nice.

 

“That was a better line than ‘I have many LGBT friends’, I’ll give you that,” Len grins at him and when Ray looks slightly offended, he laughs. “Relax, dude. Am only teasing. So, what’s the usual latte art if one wants to impress guys?” Ray looks a bit torn, but he opens his mouth to talk, and God, Len knows where this is going. “And don’t tell me that lattes are girly drinks, because so help me, I’ll pick up smoking just so I can take a cigarette break during rush hour.”

 

Ray closes his mouth, shoots Len a guilty look that confirms that he was right.

 

“I’ll figure out how to do barbells with milk foam or something,” he mutters.

 

Barbells with milk foam.

 

Could Ray be more straight.

 

-

“Welcome to Gideon’s, how can I help you today?” Len asks, not looking up from the cash register until he hears a familiar chuckle.

 

“Hello to you too, Len.”

 

It’s Mick. He’s wearing a tank top and skinny joggers embroidered with the crest of Central City University. Must be on some sports team, then. Football, probably, because he is built like a wall.

 

“Mick, hi,” Len gives him a small grin, focusing on not thirsting after his warden / costumer. “What’s up?”

 

“Nothing much,” Mick shrugs, returning the smile. “Had practice. You?”

 

“Trying to do all my readings but I’m starting to think that that’s impossible.”

 

“I know the feeling.”

 

Len finds them grinning at each other for a few seconds before the girl behind Mick coughs and he snaps back to the present.

 

“Right, uh. What can I get you?”

 

Mick eyes the board with the drinks scribbled on above Len’s head for a few seconds, then he sighs. “Just an Americano, please. Um, for here.”  

 

They trade the cup for the cash and Mick drops a few coins into the tip jar. Len nods at him in thanks and then Mick wanders over to one of the tables at the window, dragging a thick textbook out of his bag. Len finds himself wishing that he had a few seconds to check the title of it at least. He knows next to nothing about the Hot Warden.  

 

-

 

So the thing is that Len can’t really go home on the weekends because he’s working and needs to catch up on readings and assignments. He still goes once a month because his grandma won’t take no as an answer and it’s not like he doesn’t love spending time with them. And the food is a plus.

 

On some Saturdays Lisa will show up unannounced and claim a table for herself. And when Len’s shift is over, they’ll go back to his dorm, microwave the lunch Granny has packed and lounge on Len’s bed with a full stomach as if they had all the time in the world.

 

Today is a bit different though. Lisa is sitting at the counter, swinging her feet on the high bar seats. The shop is almost empty, which might have to do with yesterday’s big football game and the after party that kept Len up until two. He run into Mick on the corridor who was shirtless and sweaty and obviously wasted.

 

“Why aren’t you downstairs?” Mick asked, a lazy grin playing on his lips. He was leaning against the wall, his head tipped back as he eyed Len.

 

“Not very into sports,” Len shrugged. “Why? Am I missing out?”

 

“I’d say it’s rather the party that’s missing out,” Mick laughed and with a wink, he pushed himself off the wall and disappeared into the bathroom.

 

It was – strange, for a lack of a better word. Len stood on the empty hallway for a few more seconds, towel clutched in his hand tightly. Then he hurried back into his room, not wanting to have Mick run into him once again.

 

Loose and flirtatious was a good look on the guy. Len would give him that. But the weird part was that Len’s chest wasn’t so uncomfortably tight like usual when he was around drunk people. Sure, the whole conversation lasted for what? Ten seconds? Still, being flirted with some drunk guy usually freaked Len out and triggered his flight-or-fight response. Now he only felt… slightly amused.

 

“Len!” Len shakes his head and stares at Lisa who’s still snapping her fingers in front of his face. “You zoned out, big brother.”

 

“Ah, right,” Len mumbles and blinks a few times to get the conversation out of his head. He doesn’t need to overanalyse three entire sentences. He scowls when he notices Lisa’s sly grin. “Don’t you say anything,” he warns his sister, “or you can see when you’re getting that fancy Chai latte of yours.”

 

“But Lenny,” Lisa whines, giving him the pout she knows Len cannot resist.

 

“Fine,” he sighs, turning to get the Chai powder. “Tell me about your week, sis.”

 

Lisa snorts and says, “It’s not like you haven’t heard it before,” but they’ve been through this and she knows that Len would only say that he wants to hear it in detail, so she launches into a story about the last discussion in her English Lit class. Apparently some dipshit tried to make fun of her for interpreting a poem as being about gay love. Lisa wasn’t having it. Len snorts. They couldn’t deny they’re siblings even if they wanted to.

 

The bell by the door chimes and Len raises his eyebrows at the arriving costumer. His stomach does a strange little flip at the sight of Mick. Len wills himself still, not wanting to give away the nerves to either Lisa or Mick.

 

Mick rubs the back of his neck while he approaches the till.

 

“You’re up early,” Len can’t help saying. It’s around eleven, but he suspects that Mick was up all night.

 

“Not early enough,” Mick groans and stares at the sandwiches hungrily. “I should’ve started my assignments like two days ago.”

 

“So why didn’t you?” Lisa asks, her tilted head and wide blue eyes screaming innocence. Mick stops and turns to look at her. It’s his luck that he doesn’t stare or whistle like some scumbags do, because being on a shift or not, Len would fight him. This is his little sister and she doesn’t need any creepy fuck in their twenties hitting on her.

 

“Uh, I’m on the football team,” Mick grumbles. “We had our first game yesterday so Coach was on our ass the whole week.”

 

“So how was the celebratory party? You seemed like you were enjoying yourself,” Len drawls, unable to stay silent.  

 

Mick’s eyes flicker to him, then, and he gives Len a sheepish grin.

 

“Yeah, sorry about the – uh, corridor thing.”

 

Lisa’s eyebrows are touching her hairline at that point. She mouthes, “You’re gonna tell me about this,” to Len over Mick’s shoulder.

 

“No harm done. What can I get you today?” he adds when Mick’s stomach rumbles loudly.

 

Mick orders a chicken wrap, a banana and an Americano at last. While Len arranges the food on a tray before moving to the coffee machine, Lisa strikes up a conversation again.

 

“Soooo, what’s your assignment about?”

 

“It’s just a lab report,” Mick shrugs.

 

“Oh, a lab report! What’s your major?”

 

“Forensic Chemistry,” Mick says, studying the bar and only sending Lisa a quick, nervous glance.

 

Len whistles lowly in appreciation and Mick’s eyes flicker to him. He grins almost sheepishly and somehow that’s enough for Len’s brain to register that Mick is cute, hot and smart. The whole package, really!

 

“You manage all that while being on the football team?” Lisa asks, her Chai latte all but forgotten now. She sounds just as impressed as Len.

 

“Now you’re just making a big deal out of it,” Mick mumbles. If Len didn’t know better, he’d say Mick’s _blushing_. The tips of his ears are all red. It’s adorable. Then Mick clears his throat and Len tries to return to reality. “Anyways, it’s not like I could just quit the team or whatever.” At Lisa’s questioning glance, he shrugs. “Scholarship.”

 

“Ohh, Lenny has a scholarship, too!” Lisa grins excitedly, and the mischievous spark in her eyes tells Len that she’s already making a list of their similarities and how compatible they could be. Suddenly lunch doesn’t sound so enticing.

 

“Oh, yeah?” Mick tilts his head. Len gives him a tight smile and nods.

 

“Yeah, but as you can probably guess, I could never get an athletic scholarship.” And he probably should’ve thought this one over, because now Mick is giving him a once-over and Lisa honest to God almost squeals.

 

“Well, it’s not like you’re out of shape or anything, but you do look smart.”

 

“Says the Forensic Chemistry major,” Len says under his breath and Mick laughs in delight. It feels too soon after being checked out because it was only his skin tingling but now? It feels like Mick’s low chuckle is stuck in his ears on an infinite loop with Mr. Brightside. It’s unfair, because this hasn’t even started with a kiss, but Len can’t go there.

 

“So what’s your major, Len?”

 

At this point, Len is a thousand percent certain that his sister is going to fucking interrogate him once they leave for lunch. Mick has an almost teasing smile playing on his lips and he’s leaning on the counter, showing off those beautiful muscles. He’s very welcome to bench press Len any time he wants, thank you very much.

 

“Oh, me?” he asks back, as nonchalant as he can manage, which, judging by Lisa’s face is a miserable failure. “Political science. Those people you wanna avoid like the plague on campus because they are either wearing suits more expensive than my life or clothes from thrift shops even though their allowance is more than our annual scholarship together? They are my classmates.”

 

Mick stares at him for a moment and then bursts out in laughter. He leans heavier on the counter and presses his other hand to his distractingly flat stomach. Len catches a whiff of his cologne and it’s earthy and almost musky, strong yet not too flashy, and he can’t help thinking that it’s very _Mick_.

 

“God, good luck with that,” Mick says, laughter still resonating in his voice. “Dunno if this any consolation, but these things usually stop after the first semester. First year, tops, who has time for cleaning and ironing a suit?”

 

“I know, especially with our workload,” says Len with an eyeroll. “Too many essays, dude.”

 

“I can only imagine.” Mick gives him that toothy grin again. “Speaking of assignments, I really can’t be late with that fucking lab report. Excuse the language,” he says, looking at Lisa.

 

“I’ve heard worse,” Lisa says with a grace that only fifteen-year-old girls have when they think they have the upper hand on their brothers.


End file.
